Hobbie's Hobby
by AntigoneLupa
Summary: A man's got to have a hobby...


BcenterHobbie's Hobby/center/B  
  
BRBR  
  
The halls were silent, save for the occasional rodent scuffling behind the walls. The Rebels had evacuated the Yavin IV base shortly after their victory and relocated here, to the rocky moon orbiting Corulag. The Rebels hoped that the high metal content of the moon's surface would disrupt any Imperial sensors.  
  
Two men walked along the deserted corridor. Both were just shorter than average height, one with a sandy blonde head, the other with fine, floofy brown hair. A late-night sabaac game had them hurrying to their quarters to catch a few hours' sleep before an early patrol.  
  
As they halted at the entrance to their shared room, the door across the hall slid open and a couple came into view. The man was wrapped in a thick robe, making his form seem bulkier than it was. The light from the hall illuminated his dark blonde hair and somber expression. The woman was smaller, her red hair cut short, and she stood on tiptoe to mold her body to her companion's lean frame. They shared a long kiss with more tongue than a dentist sees in a month, then the man stepped back and smiled sadly.  
  
"You don't know how much this means to me," he murmured, "just to have someone to turn to."  
  
The woman cocked her head to one side. "You can always call on me, Derek. For anything." She emphasized the last word, turned to go, and flushed crimson at the sight of the two men across the hall. Head down, she scampered away.  
  
"Hey, Klivian," the dark-haired man called.  
  
"Antilles. Skywalker." The blonde pilot nodded, then grinned and turned back into his quarters.  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -   
  
"...and he asks me to bunk out at least three times a week!" The speaker, a rookie named Dack Ralter, stood by his X-Wing and glared at his blonde bunkmate.  
  
Wedge Antilles smiled and rubbed at a spot on his own snubfighter. "So he must be pretty serious about the little red-headed girl?"  
  
Dack looked confused. "What little red-headed girl? He's been seeing that Bothan in provisions. You know, the tall one with the tawny fur and the green eyes?"  
  
"But last night..." Wedge shook his head. "Never mind. It was late; I could have been mistaken."  
  
The younger pilot snorted. "Kinda hard to mistake a Bothan, sir. You do know that we're on alert status, don't you? No liquor allowed," Dack added with a smirk.  
  
"Thanks, Ralter, I know." II know I /Ididn't/I see a Bothan last night./I  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - -   
  
IAnd I'm not seeing a Bothan now/I. Wedge rounded a corner in the hangar's storage area and stopped short. Derek was sitting on a metal crate of exhaust vents, his arm around Danu Milton, the pretty, dark-haired captain of Specter Squadron. As Wedge watched, half in shock, half in awe, Derek sighed deeply and leaned his head on Danu's shoulder, prompting her to stroke his face and murmuring something inaudible. When the man sat up and offered her a weak smile, she patted his shoulder and kissed his cheek.  
  
"Tell you what," Wedge heard as he drew closer, "I'll stop by tonight and we'll talk some more. I'm sure we'll find some way to cheer you up."  
  
IIf he gets any more 'cheering up,' he won't be able to walk/I. Wedge hurried away before they saw him lurking there.  
  
"What are you going to do?" Luke asked after Wedge recounted the days' events.  
  
"Not a damn thing. Well, I might ask him what his secret is, but other than that..."  
  
Wedge sighed. "IThree/I women! What can they possibly see in him?"  
  
"Ask one of them," Luke suggested. "Ask Danu."  
  
P"Right," Wedge snorted. "Hey, I noticed you kissing on Derek Klivian, what the hell is that about?"  
  
"Not like that. Come on,"  
  
The Rogue's leader stood. "I've got an idea."  
  
They enlisted Dack's help and settled in around Danu as she sat down to dinner.  
  
"Mind if we sit here?" Wedge gave her an ingratiating smile.  
  
"Of course not," she said, scooting over to make room. "I've been meaning to talk to you anyway."  
  
"Oh?" Wedge tried to sound surprised. "Whatever about?"  
  
"You're a Rogue short, right?" The men nodded. "I've got a guy in Spector that's a real hotshot. He used to be in the Yellow Aces, name of Janson. If you guys want to run him through a sim, I'd approve the transfer papers."  
  
"Oh." Luke sounded disappointed. "Sure, send him over."  
  
"Hey!" Dack spoke up. "Where's Klivian?" he asked, looking around. The other men shrugged, their eyes wide with innocence.  
  
Danu swallowed a mouthful of nerf and said, "He's on patrol. He'll be back in a couple of hours." She didn't blush as the men looked at her. "Don't you make up his schedules?" she asked Luke pointedly.  
  
He choked on his drink and nodded hastily. "Yeah. Um... I forgot."  
  
She eyed the blonde curiously, but let it go.   
  
"He's a bit odd, isn't he?" Wedge asked, staring at a spot on the wall.  
  
"Who, Derek?"  
  
The men exchanged meaningful glances as Danu bristled. "He's an Iartist/I. He's terribly sensitive."  
  
Dack snorted as she continued. "And he seems so sad..."  
  
"I'd be sad, too, if I had to walk around with that face."  
  
"Dack, you're such an asshole!" Danu was outraged. "Just because he's quiet and gentle doesn't mean there's something wrong with him. You could stand to take a byte from his datapad. Excuse me."  
  
Luke snickered behind his hand as she picked up her tray and stalked off. "Hey, d'you think if I walked around looking like I've got the weight of the galaxy on my shoulders, I'd get more dates?"  
  
"It's worth a try." Wedge grinned at him. "Just remember, it'll catch up to you."  
  
Not that Flight Officer Klivian was having any troubles. Wedge saw yet another human female-- a tall blonde-- going into his room a few nights later, and Dack caught him in a heated embrace with Danu the day after that. Though they'd agreed that, in the interest of male solidarity, they wouldn't interfere, all three men were sick of him walking around the locker room with an insufferably smug expression on his face.  
  
"I like him better when he was gloomy all the time," Wedge grumbled to Luke as they walked back to their quarters one evening a few weeks later.  
  
"You can't begrudge the man his hot streak," Luke counseled. "May we all have one. Please," he added fervently, casting his eyes to the ceiling.  
  
As they passed the corridor to the female quarters, a familiar raven-haired woman turned in front of them.  
  
"Hey, Danu," Luke called.  
  
Her shoulders stiffened, but she looked over her shoulder and smiled back at them. "Hey."  
  
"We tested Janson." Wedge jogged a few steps to catch up with her. "You were right; he's great."  
  
"Yeah," Luke chimed in, walking on her other side. "If you'll sign the forms, we'd love to have him. So... you going to see your 'artist' friend?"  
  
Wedge reached behind Danu and cuffed the back of Luke's head. The blonde stumbled wilted under the combined glares of his companions.  
  
"That is none of your business." The young woman replied stiffly. She turned the corner and yelped as Wedge suddenly grabbed her hand and tried to pull her back.  
  
"Um... I... umm... need to... hangar... come with me..."  
  
"Wedge!" She jerked away and rubbed her shoulder. "You almost pulled my arm out of..."  
  
Her voice trailed off as she saw what Wedge had tried to keep from her. Derek was walking down the hall, his arm around the waist of the red-headed girl. He looked up at Danu's exclamation and his face turned deathly pale.  
  
Wedge watched his fellow pilot consider and discard various reactions to the situation, before he finally settled on the ever-popular 'Oh, shit' face.  
  
The other woman looked in confusion from Derek to the trio of pilots, two solemn, one livid. "Derek, what's going on?"  
  
Her voice seemed to jolt Danu back to the present. "Yes, I think we'd all like to know that."  
  
Wedge watched Derek's eyes darted from one woman to the other as a muscle in his cheek began to twitch.  
  
"I... uh... it's not... I mean, it's... you weren't supposed to be here until nine," he finished lamely.  
  
IBad move, son./I  
  
The red-haired woman glared at Derek and pulled away. Without a word, she drew back and struck the pilot lard enough to rock his head back. As he stared at her in astonishment, she growled, "Don't you Iever/I touch me again!"  
  
Then she spun on her heel and stalked away.  
  
The injured pilot barely had a chance to recover his senses before Danu launched into a diatribe consisting of words that no pilot would use in pilot company, and punctuated it with a resounding slap.  
  
Wedge collapsed against the wall, laughing until his sides ached.  
  
"Finished?" Danu asked coldly, standing in front of him.  
  
"No. Wait. Yeah." He wiped his eyes and grinned at her, then yelped as her palm connected with his cheek. Wedge touched his stinging face and gawked at her.  
  
"But I didn't do anything!"  
  
"Exactly. You knew, and you didn't do anything. You're all jerks!"  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -   
  
Three men sat in a dark corner of the cantina, clasping bacta patches to their bruised faces.   
  
"She'll hate us forever," Luke said unhappily.  
  
"She'll never talk to us again," Wedge added.  
  
"She'll tell all the women on base what I did," Derek mourned. "And I was on such a roll!"  
  
He buried his face in his hands and Wedge patted his back. Half a minute later, the bartender brought over a fruit fizz and set it down before the sad pilot.  
  
"From the young lady," he said, gesturing toward a lovely girl in a corner booth. "She said to give it to the mournful one."  
  
Derek glanced at the woman and perked up. He started to rise, when Wedge grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. "Haven't you had enough trouble for one day?"  
  
Derek shrugged and scooted out of the booth. "A man's got to have a hobby."  
  
BRBRPThe End 


End file.
